#everyone on this ship is stupid and i love them so much

[astrologysaysno]

I keep giggling at 1 am in the morning about the idea of an A/B/O SVSSS Au where Shang Qinghua is an omega but absolutely sucks at it.

So imagine that he's presents as an omega, but to Shang Qinghua, he can't seem to feel it. Everyone else seems to feel his 'omega-ness' when he presented, so it's probably just him that can't feel the change. The system himself said that he was an omega (A/B/O was never canon, so Airplane wouldn't have thought about what secondary gender SQH was) so he just has to roll with it.

The rest of his story is just him flubbing and epicly failing at this whole Omega thing. Even his system has given up.

His Non-A/B/O first life as Airplane has left his brain incompatible with his body, the motor skills and instincts that you're supposed to have going with your secondary gender are out of the picture, it is not built into his mainframe, so he's basically a de-facto beta with extra no second gender psychologically speaking.

His superiors are keeping a wary eye on him, his fellow peers a wash of mixed reactions to his overall behaviour, worried about who he is and his complete disregard for norms or basic instincts.

He appears completely scent blind to pheromones, nor does he seem to be able to control his own. His master remembers a time where he was the unfortunate victim of two aggressive alphas fighting in the dorms, causing so much havoc they ended up breaking his inkbrush.

The scent from him when it broke was so acrid and sharp they immediately ceased, though he seems to be none the wiser, acting in his usual cowardly manner while shakily asking them to stop.

His martial brothers have never seen him nest in all of the years he's been on the peak. Not a single piece of clothing, not anything comfortable. He simply had a single pillow and a blanket for cold nights as he dozed off. It doesn't help that he avoids everyone like the plague, so even if he tried, he didn't even have anything to build one with

(The system tried to give him the task of making a nest, and he completely misunderstood, building an actual bird nest on his mattress. The system decided not to give nor take points, simply choosing to shame their host for this stupidity. Shang Qinghua keeps it by the windowsill, a memento for unintentionally spiting fate and living.)

In comparison to the rest of his fellow An Ding Disciples, he's antisocialism incarnate, zero bonds that connect him to anyone. (Shang Qinghua can't afford that, not unless he wants the weight of people on his conscience when he betrays his sect.)

It's kind of like that one classmate everyone is familiar with, but no one actually knows them. They just see him in class and forget the rest. He's scarily competent in group works and is capable of working with people, but he's never gonna respond to your text to hangout after the project is submitted and graded.

His master sees this as a detriment. How is he going to be able to have healthy relations with his future pack as a peak lord if he can't seem to get the initiative to actually communicate and bond with them.

So he coordinates a trial run with the Bai Zhan and Qing Jing Peak to help their own head disciples get a grip. A mission to be given to them to get them to open up and become closer as friends.

It backfires tremendously, only ending with the three of them becoming more prickly or antisocial. Only the most formal of greetings will ever seem to come out of Shen Jiu's mouth now, barely hiding his sharp demeanour. Liu Qingge seems to be at least willing to talk to others now, but his relation ship to the future leader of Qing Jing has now soured.

And Shang Qinghua is now more apathetic to the idea of bonding to his future pack, rathering to become completely detached from them.

(Shang Qinghua is destined to be a traitor, so why should he allow himself to experience the cruelty of betraying someone he cares about. It would be kinder this way)

[Love the fact that I just went absolutely everywhere with no coherent thoughts. Enjoy the word vomit I guess.]

[beanarie]

i never wanted water once part 3

tommy is also breakup baking, prompted by my dear @sanguinarysanguinity

tw: mention of parent death, mention of child abuse

part 1

part 2

~

Gutierrez eyes him on his way out of the locker room. "Feel like no one ever sees you anymore. You coming back to the pickup game or what?"

"Oh." Tommy gives his damp hair one last rub from the towel. "I wasn't planning on it, to be honest. Too awkward."

Gutierrez frowns. "Why?"

"You know," Tommy says, wishing he didn't have to, "Eddie Diaz. I broke up with his best friend."

"Diaz hasn't shown in weeks. Probably got injured. You know how that crew is."

And that. Well. He and Eddie were friends. They became tight very quickly in a way Tommy hasn't experienced with many people. He shouldn't have thrown a connection like that away without at least trying to salvage it.

He sends a text, a polite, generic one asking about his welfare. Worst thing that can happen is Eddie tells him to fuck off and he's back where he started. He fully expects to be left on read.

He does not expect Eddie to tell him he's moving back to Texas because he's given up on his son deciding to come home. Eddie invites him to a pre-going away dinner at a bar and grill before he goes down South for a few days to scout out homes. And, no, absolutely not. But Tommy proposes getting a drink, just the two of them. Eddie very validly explains that he can't spare the time, since he's already started packing up his life and he's working overtime to save up for a down payment. Tommy gets it. He does.

The day after the dinner, Eddie calls him. "Hey, man. I know we're like two ships passing in the night, but I didn't want to leave without a proper goodbye. I still got some more shifts before I move for good, but the time will go by quick. We'll just stay on the line, okay? Keep me company while I go through my kitchen cabinets."

"It's good to hear from you," Tommy says honestly.

"So yeah." Eddie hums. "Why'd you do it?"

"Text you?" Tommy says. "I heard that-"

"Kinard," Eddie says, unamused.

"Yeah. Sorry."

"You just didn't seem the type to flee."

None of you know me as well as you thought you did, Tommy doesn't say. That's not fair to any of them. "I wasn't, in the past. Well, I tried not being that. A couple times. It didn't work out."

"Oh," Eddie says. "There it is."

"There what is?"

"You've got shit."

"Haven't we all?"

"Hey, I am not denying that." Eddie chuckles. "Do you plan on dealing with it, or letting it blow up every good thing you find until you die?"

"Jesus, Eddie."

"What's the point in mincing words? You did something dumb and destructive. What kinda friend would I be if I let that go without saying anything?"

"So what's the weather even like in El Paso? Does it ever get below 100?"

After a groan, Eddie lets Tommy talk about his shit, about Texas, parenthood, and chess clubs, for the rest of the call. Tommy can't say that he'll miss him. He missed him already and now he gets to continue doing so. All of this sucks.

Tommy tries his hand at gnocchi made with ricotta, lemon, and pepper that subsequently almost causes a fistfight during B shift.

Demetra favors him with a warm smile, taking in the large box in his hands. "Tom, right? Welcome! What's all this?"

"Tommy," he says easily, impressed she remembered his name at all. He hasn't been to this slightly dusty community center in five or six years. "Uh, this is garlic knots and mini calzones."

"Well, hey. You're even more welcome than before. Come take a seat."

December is a stupid time to rejoin group, many of the participants close to the edge from a cocktail of seasonal depression, missing dead loved ones, and generalized loneliness. Tommy knew it would be like this going in. He counted on it. Everyone will have so much to say that there likely won't be any time for him to open his mouth. He's not ready to spill. It will help to just soak in the atmosphere of unashamed honesty for a while.

At his third meeting, Cal, a slender guy in his mid twenties with a curly mohawk, keeps bringing up his mother. "She never wanted me to enlist," he says, "and now that I'm back home and struggling, she can't stop being all 'I told you so' morning, noon, and night. She never says it, but she is thinking it."

"Is she?" Tommy finds himself asking. "Or are you putting something on her that isn't there?"

"Maybe so." Cal pops one of Tommy's fried ravioli in his mouth and chews thoughtfully. "I don't know, I should probably give her a chance, think first about what she's actually saying before I react. But it's hard in the moment, you know?"

"Tommy?" Demetra says a minute later, making him feel like a kid being called on by the teacher. "How's your relationship with your mom?"

"Nonexistent. She died when I was fifteen." He crosses his ankles. "Fell asleep in the car on our way back from an away game and we couldn't wake her up. Heart attack."

Demetra frowns sympathetically. "That must've been hard for a kid to witness."

"I've seen so much worse since then. People shot in the head by machine guns, people covered in burns over most of their bodies..."

Demetra shakes her head slightly. "They weren't your mom."

He ducks his head, pressing his lips together. "True. It's just- That's not- It's not trauma. I don't fear falling asleep and not waking up."

"What do you fear?" Cal asks.

Being left, being hurt, being validated in his belief that no one will ever see him for all he is and choose to stick around. "Standard stuff, really. Clowns, taxes, drivers on the freeway."

He gets a pity laugh, a groan or two, and one outright glare. "Okay, okay." He exhales loudly. "Ending up alone by someone else's choice rather than mine."

"So you're cool with being on your own, as long as you're the one keeping everyone away," Cal says.

God, that sounds idiotic. "Yes?"

"You prefer it like this?" asks a woman about his own age wearing a green bomber jacket.

He shrugs. "It's not ideal, but as far as worst case scenarios go, it's okay. It's fine."

"It's spineless," says a gray-haired man with a Desert Storm hat.

Tommy doesn't flinch. "Yeah, that's kind of an inherent character trait. I keep thinking I got it licked, then it shows up wearing another face. Scared of my dad, so I joined the army and became someone he couldn't hurt anymore. Scared of people knowing I was gay, so I waited to come out until I was surrounded by brand new people. Scared of my boyfriend leaving, so." He pushes at the skin above his knees, kneading it. "So I left him first."

"You fall back," says Bomber Jacket. Her name is Annie or Angie. She has conflicted feelings about dating a man with kids. "It's easy to stop being scared when the thing that scared you is far away."

He hears Eddie. You just didn't seem the type to flee.

Demetra holds up a hand. Tommy's face must be doing something concerning. "No one here faults you for what you did to survive. Is it still serving you, is the question, or is that just what you're used to?"

He doesn't bake when he gets home. He drinks half the beers in his fridge and does a shockingly efficient job of cleaning his house, while drafting and deleting twenty-seven different texts. He then wakes up the next day, and goes to the pickup game.

Gutierrez scores four rebounds on him and doesn't shut up about it for the rest of their next shift. Tommy grumbles, and talks shit, and promises he won't have much to brag about next time.

[jjpopeshipper]

Pope is literally his soulmate. His everything. And we barely got any JJPOPE in pt2. We've never gotten them back since s2. I said it to my friend when s3 dropped, that that was the death of JJPOPE. Not even as a ship, but as BEST FRIENDS!

S1 it was John B and Kie who were close, and JJ and Pope who were close. They were all friends, but they'd pair off into duos. They were the yin to each other's yang. The sunshine to the moon. I'm so upset that s4 became the JJ show (as much as I love him) because literally every other character just stood around waiting to step in to save JJ.

Sarah is fcking PREGNANT!!!! And barely gets any screen time or time to process. John B, THE MAIN CHARACTER BTW is sidelined and literally just stands there or yells at JJ when he does something stupid. Same with Kiara. She has almost nothing to do with the plot. She even gets the cliche of being knocked out/incapacitated.

Then Cleo is still barely known at all. Great she got the last family member she had. He was ripped violently away from her and almost lost her life. Then it's never addressed again until Pope takes the k!ller's life for her.

Now onto Pope. My biggest disappointment in terms of character development. He was going to college and he was this snarky nerd who knows better than everyone. Who is logical but is still very much ruled by his emotions when confronted with big conflicts. Then he pairs off with Cleo and nothing for him. His dreams are completely gone in place for searching for treasure the rest of his life.

I'd maybe be more accepting of this season if literally any of them had a purpose besides reacting to JJ, but that's not the case now, is it?

This show falls directly into the Netflix pattern.

BEAUTIFUL, COMPELLING, ONE OF A KIND FIRST SEASON.

Then BOOM the show explodes.

Then s2 comes and we're like "ok not as good as one but its still good."

S3 comes and it's like "oh yikes... big problems with this one. But not unbearable. Has its high points."

Then s4. Nail in the coffin in terms of its CHARACTERS.

The whole reason people watch OBX is for the found family. Knowing that no matter what the pogues will find a way out and support each other.

Where was that? Where was that at all this season?

They think they can just shoehorn some bonding montages into part 1 and that'll fulfill that same need.

No. It needs to be woven throughout.

It just becomes the JJ show and I'll give props where it's due. The plot of this season is pretty strong.

As long as you don't think too much about character development, relationships or just how many shooting/chase scenes there are.

Or how the characters don't even seem to care about each other outside of their romantic relationships.

Or how the female characters are all cardboard cutout plot devices!!!! 🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗

Sorry not sorry. I'm over it. Probably won't tune in for s5.

JJ's death sends the message that no matter how hard you try, your circumstances are your circumstances. And, it gets worse. So might as well just accept it and gamble your life away until you inevitably d!e young.

But yay!!! Gold!!!! Gold, gold gold. That's the point, right?? Right?????

fuck jiara, i miss jjpope so bad to the point where im gonna start sobbing

[teamchillidogs]

Oï!!

First, I want to say, I love this comic and genuinely can’t wait to see what awaits for us next ♡♡♡

The premise is such an interesting concept– And the art is to die for, hello?? (all my ♡ to you guys, and I mean ALL of you!)

I just had two tiny questions, if it haven’t been already answered:

If it doesn’t spoil anything, is Sonic still going to be able to run at his full speed with that mechanical leg? Or is he going to be limited? I can’t imagine my poor baby stuck with average speed, but I’m not really sure that this leg is capable of supporting his sonic speed.

And second, mostly adressed to others fans... WHY IS EVERYBODY BLAMING MAH BOI TAILS FOR EVERYTHING?? Like, yeah sure he’s technically responsible but–

Why is nobody blaming Knuckles too?!

Both Sonic and Amy told Tails to come back to the ARK and let Sonic&Shadow handle things, and I think we can safely say he would have (even reluctantly) obeyed and gone back to the ship.

But noooooo, Knuckles had to chime him and told him to make himself useful.

Useful.

To the boy who literally just witnessed his BigBroTM (fake) death in an explosion without being able to do anything abt it.

The kid who just had an entire arc abt gaining confidence and learning to step out of Sonic’s shadow (pun not intented), to be his own person with his own purpose and all that jazz.

The child who’s probably still pump up on the adrealine from his fight with Eggman (which he won if I remember my SA2 correctly).

Knuckles, mah bro, best hot-headed himbo of the franchise. You could not have chosen a worst time to utter these words.

Of course Tails was going to take him up on that and try to ”MaKe HiMsElf UsEfUl”, why wouldn’t he?? He defeated Eggman in battle (Left-over adrealine and possibly cockiness?), and didn’t seem to trust Shadow with Sonic (who, again, was thought Dead literaly less than half an hour ago bc of the Team Shadow was on– Seriously, I can see why he’d like to be by his side when Sonic is again risking his life out there for them)

And franckly, how was he supposed to realize how bad his intervention would turn out to be? It never got that bad before, why now?

#StoptheTailshate #HoldKnucklesaccountable

Sorry for the rambling and the terrible english, but it had to be said, bruh. Tails ain’t even in my Top-5 favorites character, but everyones’ so harsh on the baby, he needed some backup 🥺😭

Hii @sookilini here answering as per usual!

this is the best ask we have ever received and it's honestly my favorite, thank you so much for sending this.

I always get to excited and emotional when i read these things, thank you so much for your kind words <333

ALSO THANK YOU FOR NOT ATTACKING TAILS, he has been DRAGGED TO FILTH I CAN´T TAKE IT /j

So first: is Sonic still going to be able to run at his full speed with that mechanical leg? Or is he going to be limited?

Unfortunately, the people of Marmolim (the planet he landed on) as you may have been able to tell, don't know who Sonic is and are unaware of his speed and abilities. So, the prosthetic leg isn´t capable of withstanding his speed...

Secondly

Why is nobody blaming Knuckles too?

I honestly have no idea why most people commenting did not catch onto Knuckles provoking Tails by poking at his insecurities, I'd even dare to say his ego more so... Tails got into his head "oh I don't need Sonic to get things done. I can do anything, I'm more than just the brains, I can do the action too" at least this is my intention with his actions.

We have to remember, Tails is literally just a child at the end of the day, yes he is incredibly smart but can you really expect a 12-year-old-ish kid to act rationally when put in a stressful life or death situation while getting yelled at by everyone for just trying to help?

Nobody would ever expect a kid to even be in that situation to begin with right? at least that´s what I think.

We all know Knux isn´t the smartest in hindsight...he isn't stupid by any means, but he will say what comes to his mind without second guessing for sure.

But oh well...Knuckles isn´t here to defend himself....anymore...

But there is still hope

[kwamiwayzz]

Jeckole Yapping

Had to dig through my old posts to find the template, but I'm bored and doing this again but for Jecka and Nicole this time. Mostly headcanons and such below

__

• When or if I started shipping it:

I'm going to be honest, but I don't remember. I only got into Co09 a few months ago. All I know is that once I watched the out of context videos on Class of '09 and Re-Up, I wanted more content of them and came across a lot of really good fanart and fanfic.

I think there were a lot of boxes checked off when I slowly went down the rabbit hole lol. There's an emotionally constipated dark-girl paired with a preppy blonde girl who acts as the former's foil. I think what really drew me into them, fanart aside, were the foils and parallels between them. The codependency, expanded upon by Progman, was probably the final nail that dragged me down the brainrot.

• My thoughts:

I've known about them for awhile, and thought they were some random white girls in a cult classic VN that somehow regained a surge of popularity last year. I didn't know the VN was relatively new, and most of the time when I do ship Jeckole, it's without the creator in mind. They have a certain flavor to them that hits in a way where I can't stop brainrotting over them.

Someone mentioned this in a fic comment, but they see them as foils when it comes to dealing with people and the world around them--where Nicole acts as this snarling animal that will bite you if you get too close, while Jecka acts as this wall that doesn't allow things to get to her even if it does bother her. In a way, they envy each other for that, and after reading that fic it reinforced why their dynamic is one that I gravitate towards compared to the others. They have pieces of each other that they're missing and they can't live without the other (I love codependent Jeckole).

• What makes me sad about them:

In-game, they probably wouldn't last after high school when they go their separate ways. As much as Nicole sees Jecka as a slightly more "special" person to her than most people at the school, their friendship is more for convenience--with Nicole finding Jecka to be more tolerable and cool compared to everyone else (along with the added bonus of not being a loner), and Jecka finding Nicole more fun to hang around with than all her other school friends despite knowing how much Nicole is a fucked up mess and bad influence. In-game Nicole is also someone who would continue to keep everyone at an arm's length and also wouldn't fight too hard (outside of the Jecka and counselor smoking scene) to maintain any meaningful relationships once they're out of her reach.

But also, who cares what the creator thinks because fanart and fanfic exists lmaoooooo.

• What makes me happy about them:

There's a scene in Flip Side where Nicole calls Jecka first thing in the morning at 7am asking her where McDonald's keeps their frozen patties, only for Jecka to say they don't have them because McD serves breakfast during those hours. Then Jecka calls Nicole stupid, and I just found that scene funny in an oddly comforting way.

Nicole is comfortable enough to bug Jecka and wake her up so early in the morning for something so mundane, while Jecka just stays on the phone listening to whatever antics she's in instead of hanging up immediately and going back to bed. I also mentioned this in another post, but someone on Twitter said the thing they love most about Jeckole is how Nicole was willing to get to know Jecka even after saying she has no desire to make any connections at her new school. It can be interpreted as a convenience thing on Nicole's end, but every route in the original game has her willing to either ask for Jecka's name or share her name when they first meet.

To me, their back and forth dynamic keeps them balanced enough to stay fucked up with the potential of becoming well-adjusted in the future.

• Things done in art/fic that annoys me:

There's a number of interpretations when it comes to the Co09 characters, so I understand it can be hard to write them. But for me personally, I'm not a fan of when Nicole is depicted as either way too nice and uncharacteristically soft or way too mean and following the stereotypical SBN interpretation that "Nicole doesn't give a shit about anyone or anything".

• Things I look for in art/fic:

When they're codependent :) or when they're codependent with a slight chance of them getting healthier over time. Also, just them being stupid together.

I'm also one of the few people (I haven't come across too many others yet) that seek out future Jeckole stuff. Whenever I picture them as adults, it's always aurawra21's art in mind.

• Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: 

I'm a monoshipper when it comes to Class of '09, so probably no one. It adds to that codependent flavor :) but if you want a real answer...

For Nicole, probably Emily.

For Jecka, probably Emily also.

• My happily ever after for them:

Moving out of their town, healing from their trauma, and getting healthier over time. Maybe they won't be better people exactly, but they'd at least be less fucked up and a little happier (with Nicole finding some will to keep living past 30) after cutting off their toxic families.

• What is their favorite activity?: 

Nicole forcing Jecka to watch Mythbusters and How It's Made with her (in exchange for watching Smallville and Charmed with Jecka). Also, probably smoking together, assuming that Jecka hasn't quit her smoking habit ten years later.

[okcassin]

Wait for dinner!!!

[alpacacare-archive]

day twoe ah haha

[camellcat]

first xander brought her back with human breath and determination... then willow with supernatural power and love.... smth smth two halves to keep their third in balance from drifting too far into either side and losing herself.....

[stinkypeanutbutter]

honestly I have nothing much to say about the canvas ( because I skimmed through it out of lack of interest even tho I was fixated on sbg for idk how long before you all saw DONT even lie ) but I lowkey love Ashlyn’s little dancer costume it’s very silly !!! Also kinda hoping their silly little homeless children costumes ( hopefully that’s not offensive ) come into play at one point . Like . . a school play . I’m screwing around with ideas here .

[nomairuins]

also its so dumb that one of the arguments ppl have against a sims 5 is that theyve already invested too much money into 4. like yes its fucking scummy that ea charges so much for dlc and its Ludicrous the amt sims 4 costs if you have all the dlc and its going to keep getting more and more expensive but . to be honest . why are you paying for sims packs. im sry

[marsbotz]

think i got spoiled for life on mars bc i wanted to make a stupid fucking post abt gene x sam hatesex. TWICE spoiled

[pissfizz]

On one hand toya tenma hc is one of my favorite things ever and it’s very important to me but on the other part of me is coming to hate it bc fans are so insufferable about it

[the-moogle-of-your-nightmares]

i gotta say that i'm grateful for food metaphors because a) they make What Codependency Actually Is way, way easier to explain, and b) they give enough of a buffer to explain said things without delving too much into gory details of one's personal experiences

[thewispsings]

two lonely friends | oscar piastri

paring: oscar piastri x journalist!reader

summary: lando norris has two lonely best friends. he gets an idea, why not set them up?

f1wags: y/n l/n, landos bestfriend was seen entering the monaco grand prix paddock today!

view comments below!

user1: OH BROTHER

user2: free my girl y/n 🗣️

user3: the day y/n stops getting referred to as “landos bestfriend” is the day i can REST

user4: landos bestfriend?? sorry i only know y/n l/n f1 journalist??

user5: y’all do this every race 🙄 OFC SHES THERE. THATS HER JOB.

user6: she’s such a moocher

user7: she’s literally there to do HER JOB?

user8: it’s crazy how after a year of oscar being in f1, we still haven’t gotten a y/n and oscar interaction ???

user9: y/n, our comfort outfit queen

ynandlandocontent: my favorite snippet of landos and y/ns interview 🧡

view comments below!

user10: ugh them ☹️☹️

user11: literally just make out already

user12: the very best FRIENDS

user13: she’s so unprofessional 💀

user14: this wasn’t even part of the interview 😭 this was just a blooper 🙄

user15: OKAY BUT Y/N FINALLY GOT TO INTERVIEW OSCAR ???

user16: ugh i love them so much 😞

user17: lando and y/n shippers where??

user18: HERE 🙋‍♂️

oscarpastyupdates: y/n interviewing oscar today!

view comments below!

user19: oscar “but um” piastri everyone!

user20: FINALLY SOME Y/N x OSCAR CONTENT!!

user23: why do i ship…

user24: they literally only talked once 😭😭

user23: okay let me BEEE

user25: guys did you see how hard he was blushing, or am i just crazy???

user26: they literally want each other SO BAD

user27: i can feel the tension through the screen

user28: ok so do i ship lando x y/n or oscar x y/n

— one day later !

ynupdates: queen y/n was seen out last night by multiple fans! she looks beautiful!

view comments below!

user29: HELLOOO???? IS THAT NOT OSCAR

user30: ARE WE JUST GOING TO PRETEND THAT THAT IS NOT OSCAR PIASTRI???

user31: omg oscar stole landos girl

user32: landos girl???

user33: wait i like this

user34: i love how the caption doesn’t mention oscar at ALL

user35: let them cook 🔥🔥

user36: okay oscar i see you 👀

user37: i wonder how lando feels about this..

liked by charles_leclerx, yourusername, landonorris, and 673,928 others!

lando.jpg: happy birthday to my little sister! you’re ancient now 😞 here’s to many more birthdays together!

view comments below!

user38: aw ☹️

user39: okay guys i’m crying

user40: lando ALWAYS eats with his birthday captions

user41: i wonder if landos ex’s had ever felt intimidated by y/n

user42: y/n has said that she has never not gotten along with landos gfs, so there’s that!

user43: okay now kiss

user44: i still ship idc

user45: her and lando ✅ her and oscar ❌

yourusername: ugh lando you love me so much, it’s disgusting

lando.jpg: i will take away your present.

yourusername: NO IM SORRY

liked by, mclaren, landonorris, oscarpiastri and 873,928 others!

yourusername: and who’s gonna pay attention to the redheads of the world?

pic credits: some kid named oscar??

view comments below!

user46: OKAY OKAY OKAY

user47: ugh you look so good 😔

user48: OSCAR IN THE CAPTION ??? WE ARE SO BACK!!!

user49: happy birthday queen!!

user50: happy birthday 🧡🧡

user51: oscar and y/n hard launch when???

oscarpiastri: ME I’LL PAY ATTENTION TO THE REDHEADS OF THE WOLRD!!! I WILL!!

user52: okay oscar let’s calm down..

user53: oh he’s down bad

user54: who needs more confirmation then THIS??

liked by maxverstappen1, mclaren, landonorris, and 873,928 others!

oscarpiastri: happy birthday to my best friend, and the most beautiful lady in the world 🧡

view comments below!

landonorris: bestfriend?

landonorris: oh okay

landonorris: cool cool cool

landonorris: yeah that’s chill

landonorris: totally NOT going to brust out into tears rn

landonorris: hahaha

landonorris: that would be stupid

landonorris: cool cool cool

landonorris: okay okay okay

landonorris: i set you two up and you just completely forget about me huh

landonorris: wow i can’t believe this

landonorris; i’m going to die alone

landonorris; alone and sad

landonorris: FUCK YOU GUYS

user55: let’s all just move pass lando having a mental breakdown…

[januaryembrs]

YOU WERE LIKE AN ANGEL TO ME | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader

Request: my DARLING @avis-writeshq says- i’m a menace but i ADORED the spencer fic u posted 🥹 UGH THEYRE SO CUTE YOUR HONOURRRR 👹if it’s okay, may i request another fic with the same couple 🙈 perhaps one day reader is not as sweet or chirpy as she usually is, or she gets injured or threatened in the field? much love and lots of kisses xoxo 🫶

Description: Spencer swore he wanted to hate her. She was too happy, too chirpy, too much for a guy who spent months rotting in prison. But how could he ever hate her when she cried in his chest like that?

Length: 5k (I'm feral for these two)

warnings: post prison reid. Angst. depiction of suicide from the Unsub. gory language used. guns mentioned. mention of $nuff video and other murders. Nothing that hasn't been done on CM already.

authors note: if y'all want to see more with these two just SAY because I am all ears I would die on this ship

There were a lot of times in his time at the BAU that Spencer had wished he could have changed the outcome of their bad guy, surprisingly enough. There was the time they found their UnSub a few minutes too late, and one of the victims fathers decided to take him out then and there with a shotgun to the head. He was just a kid. There was the entire time he was with Tobias Hankel, and he lived in a state of both fear and sympathy for the boy trapped in his own body after years of abuse. There was Nathan Harris, the kid who had stopped him at the subway station and practically begged him for help to stop his urges to murder, only to slit his own wrists before Spencer could get to him because he thought he was tainted. 

He could see how it was easy in their job to get wrapped up in saving the day, in saving everyone they could. He just had hoped, on some stupid grace of a god he didn’t even believe in, that she would have at least remained untouched by the bad luck. 

Spencer had always thought, since the first day he had arrived back into the office after his stint in prison, that she seemed to just waltz through life easier than anyone else. He knew the concept of luck was not quantifiable, that it was just a coincidence that good things happened to some people, and bad things happened to others. He always grouped himself in with the latter, because what was his entire life if not one bad hand of cards after another?

Part of him had been seething with vitriol jealousy when he first met her. He hated how the elevator doors seemed to open without hesitation for her, no waiting required. He hated how her hair never seemed to fall out of place, while his required primping and preening to upkeep. He hated how she was always so happy, whether it had been she’d been given an extra cookie at the bakery for free, or her coffee had just tasted super delicious that morning, or the road works clogging the city had been put on hold the one day she needed to drive into the office. She was one of those people, he had decided, that life just seemed to smile down upon, and she beamed back in that dazzling grin. 

He felt sick to his stomach for ever wishing it gone, especially when she looked like she might never smile again. 

They never liked to say that they had easy cases and hard ones, all of their cases were difficult to process. But this one had been a handful above the rest. 

“UnSub has been killed on site, all units stand down,” Luke said into the radio, and the entire squadron took a sigh of relief, all of them except him. 

Because he saw that look in her eye, the way everything sparkly about her seemed to have vanished.

They had been following Bobbie Wrids for a week. Five bodies in, five men shot between the eyes execution style, almost six by the time they’d arrived on the scene. 

She’d gone with Tara around the front of the abandoned building; Penelope tracked their newest victim, Henry Frond, through his phone pinging off the nearest satellite towers, and it had been straight forward from there. Or at least it should have been. 

Because by the time Spencer and Luke arrived in their own SUV, Penelope had time to access the rest of Henry’s phone, and it was clear to see the victimology behind all six men. 

They were distributing snuff videos of women, some between themselves, some to other usernames on the darkweb, and Bobbie Wrids’ daughter had been one of them.

Bobbie had become somewhat of a vigilante, but he was a grieving father above all. He was a wounded animal chomping at the bit to soothe the ripping pain of his daughter's murder, the same one those men were getting off to. 

Tara and her exchanged a glance as Penelope relayed the information over their headsets, her once serious expression falling into something sombre and sorrowful. How could she arrest a man she couldn’t help but feel sorry for, one she couldn’t help but think wasn’t entirely wrong in his actions. 

“Bobbie Wrids,” Tara’s voice was stern, cutting through the silence of the desolate building. Their footsteps were careful as they made their way through the hallway, down to what had once been a rec-room, or perhaps a staff room, where they knew Bobbie had Henry, “This is the FBI, we’d like to talk,” 

They heard nothing, and she looked up to the older woman hesitantly, her finger hovering over the trigger the way Spencer had taught her. Tara took a minute, knowing she was leading the charge here with the girl being so inexperienced, before she nodded to the door knob and the rookie twisted the handle, pushing the peeling wood open gently. 

Bobbie Wrids stood in the centre of the room, moth eaten couches either side of the damp rug, the ceiling tiles half caved in from wear and tear. Henry Frond was already a pulp in the UnSub’s arms, and yet it was Bobbie that her eyes shot to first, sympathy shooting through every fibre of her being when she saw the distraught look on the father’s face. 

He was grieving. He was grieving his little girl’s death. He was looking for a solution, and this seemed to be his best bet. 

“Bobbie,” Her voice was shaky, her and Tara frozen in the doorway as the man brought the pistol to Henry’s beaten face, cocking it towards his temple before they could even explain themselves. “We’re going to come in, is that okay? We just want to talk, just let us talk-”

They had only edged closer by three paces between them as she was speaking before his knuckles turned white and he squeezed the gun tighter to Henry’s skin, the barrel contorting the flesh, “Don’t come any closer, this pig isn’t worth your mercy,”

“We know,” She said, her and Tara slowly stepping over a fallen ceiling tile, cracking under her boot as she met his desolate gaze for the first time, his head snapping to her. “We know what he did, Bobbie. What they all did.”

His throat bobbed, his bottom lip quivering and the sight of it, a man so broken, forced a frog into her oesophagus, and she willed herself not to cry. 

“They hurt my little girl,” Bobbie choked out, his face turning mauve as the tears began to build behind his eyes, “She was my girl. She was only eighteen.” 

She nodded, his wetted hues seemingly permissive when she stepped closer to where he held Henry hostage. 

“I know, I’m so sorry for what happened to her,” She said, her voice croaky, unstable as she wrenched it into something audible, “I’m so sorry,” 

“He doesn’t deserve mercy, none of them did,” Bobbie spat, his forearm crushing against Henry’s trachea in a vice-like grip. The man floundered, a wheeze coming from his lungs, not that she felt much sympathy for him. 

She sprung into action, flicking her gun onto safety and holstering it, Tara doing the same as she lowered her weapon to her side. He profiled as a vigilante; he had no reason to hurt them. 

“Bobbie, listen, I know they didn’t deserve to walk free, okay?” She said, taking the smallest step towards where the men stood, “But she wouldn’t want this for you, would she?”

The man flinched, his jaw hard as a rock with how he clenched his teeth together, as if holding back a sob. 

“Come on, Bobbie. Let him go, we have enough evidence to get him sentenced. We can get you a plea deal, I know a good lawyer,” She begged, because she wasn’t beneath it, because she knew he was a good man backed into a corner, “Please,”

Maybe it was the way her eyes were soft when she looked at him, or the fact two more agents burst into the room from the hallway, Spencer’s eye immediately falling to where she was stood so close to their UnSub, her gun out of hand. Tara stood by, but that wasn’t good enough for him. He edged with light footsteps until he was behind her, his gaze cautious, never leaving the gun in Bobbie’s hand. 

“Please,” She repeated, and Spencer saw Bobbie’s shoulders drop, every sliver of resolve draining from his body at her gentle tone, a deer approaching a hunter. 

Henry was thrown to the floor, the man practically dead weight as he gasped, almost retching at the feeling of air sucking back into his chest frantically, and Luke and Tara were quick to wrestle him into cuffs, the woman reading him his Miranda rights. 

Spencer almost made a grab for her then, because she was still creeping forward towards the man who had a loaded gun still live in his hand. He didn’t care for one second that the statistics said Bobbie wouldn’t lay a hand on her since she wasn’t part of his list. He didn’t care that every sign pointed to their UnSub being benevolent towards women, especially younger ones, that she fit his daughter’s description. Spencer didn’t care, he wanted her as far away from that gun as possible. 

His heart lurched into his throat when Bobbie did in fact make a lunge for her, just not the way he’d feared. Because she had grabbed him. She’d pulled him into an embrace, a hug, kind and sweet as she always was. 

Spencer cursed her for being so soft. It was going to get her killed. 

“Agent,” His voice was terse, worried if you dug a little deeper than the sharp surface, but she didn’t listen to him. She held Bobbie tight as the man unravelled on her shoulder, falling into heart breaking sobs and it was then Spencer realised she was crying with him. 

“It’s going to be okay, you’re okay,” She was shushing him, the killer, reassuring him he was safe, as if the killing thing wasn’t still between his fingers that clutched at her back with rough hands. 

“They killed my girl, they took her from me, and then they laughed about it,” He wailed, and she nodded, squeezing him even tighter if that was so possible, “No one would listen, the police didn’t listen, I had to do something,”

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry,” This was wrong. She wasn’t supposed to be sympathising with the criminals. But she couldn’t help it, she couldn’t help the gasping urge to comfort the man who had lost his whole world, “I’m listening. Tell me about her,” 

“She was so beautiful,” Bobbie whimpered, sniffling into her shoulder. Spencer felt his chest twinge at the scene. He hated that she was so soft. “She never hurt a soul,”

She cried with him, though hers were choked down as much as she could get them, her wet cheeks the only proof she had ever let them slip. 

“I’m sorry,” She said again, because no matter how many times she repeated those two little words, it would never bring his daughter back, “I can help you,”

He pulled away from her shoulder, and it was only then that Bobbie Wrids even noticed Spencer, his face taut in anxiety as he watched the man’s hands still holding onto her body as if she was the only thing that kept him upright, which Spencer wouldn’t be surprised if it were true. 

He fished the cuffs out of his back pocket, his finger never leaving the trigger as he stared down at their UnSub cautiously. He knew he may be being cruel, knew that ten years ago he would be just as caring as her. But that Spencer was long gone. And what remained was screaming in terror that she was in the line of danger, that she was holding the danger in her bare hands like she didn’t see the jeopardy she was putting herself in. 

Bobbie pulled away to look at her, the creases around his eyes deep chasms, and even with the smattering of grey hair, the stubble, the cold, empty look of someone with nothing left, she thought he might have been a handsome man once. He looked at her with a ghost of a smile, and one of his callused hands came up to tuck her hair behind her ear as if it had been second nature to him for eighteen years. 

“You’re a sweet girl,” He murmured, and she blinked at him, her chest easing at the way his wails had subsided into something quiet. She could help him, she swore she would help him. He was a good man beneath it all. “But no one can help me anymore, sweet girl,”

And with that he lifted the pistol beneath his chin and pulled the trigger.

—

She heard someone scream before she realised it was coming from her own throat, but her ears were ringing and she couldn’t open her eyes. Her face was wet and hot, and for a second she thought it was tears, but she was beyond crying now. She felt arms pulling her back into a strong chest, and someone was murmuring to her, or perhaps they were speaking normally and the sound of the gunshot had knocked her hearing. Either way, it was like someone had pulled a bag over her head as she brought her shaking hands up to her eyes to wipe. 

She managed to crack her lids then when the sludge was gone, only to see the room still a blurry mess. She could make out, in the haze of blobs and crimson tint, Bobbie’s body slumped to the floor, a dark puddle seeping into the rug as those long arms tugged her out of the room. She only then looked down to her hands where she had rubbed her face and she caught the same claret plasma coating her fingers, her white shirt, her pants, her arms. It covered her head to toe. 

It was in her eyes, she realised when she saw the ichor coating her fingertips. It was blocking her vision, turning the world a vivid wine colour, and she thinks she whimpered, or perhaps it was a moan of horror seeing the puddle beneath Bobbie’s body growing larger by the second. 

“I don’t understand,” She said out loud, her head spinning, and she brought her fingertips up to her eyes again, maybe to get the blood out, god there was so much blood on her face, or maybe because she hoped to everything out there that she would clear her sight and find it all a terrible hallucination, the product of one too many nights of sleepless tossing. 

But when she rubbed her lids again, this time seeing the scene a little better, Bobbie was still dead. She had still been too late. 

“You’re in shock, you need to breathe,” A voice instructed her over her shoulder, and it was from the same person who had their hands around her waist, pulling her away from the crime scene, as CSI filed in from behind them. 

She tried pushing the arms off her, weak because she couldn’t feel anything that wasn’t the horror in her stomach, and it took her a second before she listened to their words and realised she was holding a breath in her chest, the way a toddler does when they’re overwhelmed. 

“I don’t-” She gasped, the air rushing through her lungs, so fast it made her cough, “I don’t understand, I was going to help him- I don’t understand- why?”

“I know, just breathe for me, sweetheart,” Spencer. She only just realised it was Spencer speaking, because he had never called her that and the gentle tone he’d taken was nothing like his usual, civil cadence. He had been dropping a few jokes the past few weeks since she’d driven him home, had been more touchy feely with correcting her form when she was at the shooting range, had delicately touched the small of her back when they were navigating a crowd together. He was slowly cracking from his statuesque expression that hadn’t left his face since he’d gotten out of prison, but the softness with which he held her waist was entirely new. 

“Spencer, I don’t- I don’t get it,” She said, her voice bubbling into a sob as she allowed herself to be pulled away with no fight left in her. He took her into the hallway, turning her body from the sight of his hand lifeless on the floor with little to no effort. She was damn near limp in his arms, “Spencer, I don’t under-understand, I was going to h-help him, why would h-he do that-”

“Shhh, you need to breathe,” He murmured into her hair, trying to lead her out the front of the building and far away from where she’d just been front row seats to a messy suicide, “Come on, just breathe for me, baby, and then we can talk,”

But she wasn’t listening, and he wasn’t offended. Spencer knew it was the shock. He knew the symptoms by how her respiratory system had picked up in a matter of seconds and it was like she had gone from zero to a hundred. She let out a long whine, tears collecting the blood on her lash line and her chest seized into action, gulping down air, too short to do anything for her lungs, and her legs began to buckle beneath the two of them. 

Spencer stopped in the hallway, realising she was in more shock than he must have thought. He knew she was sensitive, hell it was one of his favourite things about her. He knew she felt everything so deeply, burned too easily, like a daisy wilting in a dry heat, or candyfloss melting in his mouth. Spencer knew, as awful as watching death up close was for any agent, it would hit her hardest of all of them. 

He moved around to her front, his hands migrating from her waist up to her shoulders, brushing over her upper arms soothingly. But her body felt numb, her head felt heavy, and her eyes were glazed over, down a rabbit hole entirely away from him, even when one of his hands cupped her wetted cheek gently. 

“Just breathe, hey, look at me,” He tried a firmer tone, and she bent to his will too easily. It was a punch in the gut seeing everything shining and pretty leached out of her eyes, as if she had become soulless in a matter of minutes, as if she had lost all hope in the world the second Bobbie pulled that trigger. She looked like hell, blood still fresh on her cheeks, in her hair, smeared around her eye sockets where she had scrubbed so hard to get it off her skin, “You need to calm down, you’re going to faint if you don’t breathe,”

She nodded, or something close to it, her eyes falling down to the floor, and she seemed to wrestle for control over her chest then. But what came after was worse, Spencer thought. Her brows screwed together, her eyes welling up with more of those fat tears, and her lips dropping into a devastated pout, her eyes trailing over the mess on her uniform, on her hands. 

“Spencer, I don’t understand, I tried to help him, I wanted to help him,” She sobbed, sniffling to herself miserably, and he barely even thought about it when he pulled her into his chest, not caring that her skin would dirty his shirt. 

His hand wound into her hair, stroking her sweetly as she buried her wails into his vest. He used his other arm to pull her close to him, which she seemed to have zero qualms about as she clawed at his back to keep him close, as if she didn’t want to face what was going to happen when they left that building. 

Spencer regretted ever thinking her sunshine was too bright for him. 

–

She hadn’t smiled in a whole week. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She had given Penny a very forced smile when she had fussed over the younger woman the first day she got back, had said thankyou with downcast eyes and a fragile grin when the blonde presented her with a framed picture of a puppy to keep on her desk ‘incase she needed something nice to think about,’

She hadn’t looked at it once, because they both knew it wouldn’t do anything, no matter how much she pretended for Penelope’s sake that she would put it to good use. 

He had taken her out for coffee on him that first day, but by the time they had got to the front of the queue, he had been doing almost all of the talking, which had become rare nowadays since he had come home from Mexico. Usually, it had been her filling the silences, because he knew in her right mind she hated the sound of static nothingness, she found it awkward and unnecessary when she could talk to anyone without thinking about it too hard. 

They had got to the desk, the barista smiling up at him as he ordered his usual, before he turned to look at her as the woman serving asked her what she would like. But she wasn’t listening, she was watching out the window, nothing particularly invigorating beside a bird cleaning its feathers on top of a stop sign. 

He said her name, putting his hand on her back and her head whipped around, her eyes empty as they looked up at him expectantly, “What do you want to drink?” 

She blinked, waking herself from a stupor, and looked at the barista with an embarrassed expression, “Hot chocolate, please,” 

And that was all she really had to say until lunch rolled around, and she excused herself to head home early. Emily smiled at her reassuringly, her eyes wary as she watched their happy-go-lucky rookie head for the elevators with a desolate look in her eyes. 

Spencer hoped she would come around on her own, or maybe even be brave enough to talk to someone about the thoughts rattling around that head of hers, but she just didn’t. She stayed as silent as possible, only ever speaking when spoken to, asking Emily if she could finish off her reports at home, to which the Prentiss woman never protested. 

But Spencer had had enough. He’d worried himself sick over her, and where all thoughts of how endearing and lovely and charming she was had sat in his head before, now it was all just ways he could think to make her smile again. 

It was the following Tuesday by the time he braved action. She had gone home after their midday briefing, apologising to Emily with tired eyes that seemed to be growing more and more heavy by the day, like she hadn’t slept a wink in a fortnight. Which Spencer thought was entirely possible. 

He pulled up to the house Penelope had not so discreetly told him was hers, definitely not because he’d asked, and definitely, definitely not breaching any human resource policies about distributing fellow workers information (meaning Spencer had almost certainly not begged Penelope for the address with those puppy eyes of his he knew could bag him anything). 

The peonies in the window bays were wilting but her house was something out of a fairytale. He wasn’t sure why he was really so surprised. It screamed her, everything about it, from the toadstool post box to the little green, cast iron bench that sat in the garden, the metal forged to look like florets of ivy holding the sitter upright. 

He rapped the brass knocker, the metal cold under his long fingers. Brushing invisible dirt off his shirt, he hoped she would answer as the present squirmed at his feet. 

“Just a second,” He hushed, and as if she heard him, the front door swung open to reveal her bare face he hadn’t seen since he’d helped her wipe the blood from her skin in the back of the ambulance. 

She looked at him with furrowed brows, before they quickly shot to the floor, to her cobbled pathway that had clicked under his shoes, and her face washed with a shock. 

“Oh my god, Spencer!” She crouched to her knees, a slobbery lick immediately meeting her cheek as the Spaniel rubbed his wet nose up to her ear, sniffing her unique smell, as if it was a bag of Class A’s, “I never knew you had a dog,” 

“I don’t,” He replied, kneeling with her to ruffle the soft fur behind the canine’s ear, “This is Ace. He retired from the Bomb Unit a month ago and Penelope sent me his handler’s number. They said he’s the happiest dog in the world,” 

 “I would be too if I stopped so many people from blowing up,” She said, but before he could ask what she meant exactly by that, Ace had jumped up and attacked her entire face with kisses as if he too thought that statement was worth silencing. 

And she laughed. She laughed louder than she had in days, weeks, her eyes crinkling in joy as the little pink tongue stole away her sorrow, tickled away the traces of the blood that had tainted her skin. 

Spencer smiled, his eyes watching her face scrunch in a squeal, hands eventually coming up to the elderly dog’s jowls to gently push him down. 

“Oh, you are the sweetest guy,” She said, and the words had him tugging at the leash to lick her all over again, “Yes you are, you’re the sweetest little guy around, huh?” 

She chuckled, scratching down the mutt’s neck, and her eyes flicked back up to Spencer, who watched her with more intent than she’d realised. 

“Petting and receiving affection from pets causes spikes in serotonin in our brain and reduces anxiety, did you know that?” Spencer said, Ace pushing his muzzle into the palm of her hand to prove a point. 

Her smile wavered slightly, and she looked at his hazel hues that seemed to see right through her, “Look, I’m sorry I’ve been so off lately, I just can’t sleep at the moment-”

 “Don’t apologise,” He cut in, though his tone was kind, and the two of them stood back up to their full height, “What happened was horrifying, even some of the longest serving agents I know would struggle seeing that,” 

She scoffed, unusually pessimistic coming out of her mouth, “You wouldn’t,”

His head tilted, not quite understanding what she meant, because she hadn’t sounded cruel when she said it. Then again, he didn’t think she was actually capable of that emotion. 

She looked at him, a flash of something vulnerable in her eyes, something like that day he’d held her in the hallway; too fast he almost missed it.

“You’re so brave, Spencer, you’re like invincible. I mean, you survived prison and your mom getting kidnapped and you bounced straight back to work like it was nothing. I can’t even watch a murderer die without spiralling out of control,” She huffed, rubbing the bridge of her nose and before he could respond on just how wrong she was, before he could tell her that that was exactly the opposite of what had happened because he had damn near changed every inch of himself in prison to stop himself from breaking, he caught her murmuring and he thought he might just have been punched all over again, “I wish I was like you,”

His jaw clenched, eyebrows furrowing into a frown as he stepped towards her, and her head shot to him, worried she may have said the wrong thing by mentioning everything that had happened, everything Pen had specifically said was a touchy subject, and she opened her mouth to apologise. 

“Do you know how unbelievably glad I am that you are nothing like me?” Spencer said, his voice bordering on furious and her fumbled for a reply, worried she had truly pissed him off. 

She wouldn’t blame him for hating her. She’d always worried, until perhaps that day they’d gotten into her car and she’d driven him home, that her very essence annoyed him. 

“I’m sorry-” She started, but he shook his head.

“Stop apologising,” He said, his hand reaching up to grab where her fingers tugged together nervously, his hold featherlike, his face softening when he saw her expression, “I don’t want you to be anything like me. I like you just how you are,” 

She sighed, eyes doe like with emotion as she looked at him, “Really?”

He smiled, a rare and genuine smile as she seemed to glow under his words, “Yes, really.” Spencer allowed himself to enjoy the way that the twinkle returned to her expression when he smiled at her with something almost like the old Spencer in him, before he cleared his throat, “We all like you. Everyone on the team likes how you are,”

She paused, nodding to herself as if knocking herself out of a silly daze, and Ace bounced on his hind legs trying to get her attention again. 

“You don’t think I’m too sensitive?” She asked, holding her palm out for the dog to nuzzle at with that wet nose of his. 

Spencer shook his head, “Sensitive is good. It means you feel something. Means you feel the good things deeper too,” 

Her smile was blinding, because she’d never thought of it that way before, and she looked like her old self again. Spencer wasn’t stupid enough to think she was never going to think about Bobbie again, he still thought about that first UnSub he’d tried to save. He still thought about Tobias Hankel. He thought about them all. 

But he was going to make sure she never turned into him. He didn’t think he’d ever forgive himself if she did. He’d protect her sunlight even if it burned him to know he could never have her the way he wanted. Because she was everything good, and he was him. 

She looked down at Ace, the life returning to her as she stood aside for the two of them to enter her house, “Tea?”

Yep. Spencer felt something run hot knowing she would always be out of reach. Didn’t stop him from thinking about it, though. 

[starkeyisthelastname]

OHHH ANOTHER THOUGHT!!!!!!!

idk how the porn community works HALSJKS but if its a thing to like ….. ship them ig??? … how would rafe react to r’s video with another dude being posted on twitter (maybe the first vid she’s made since her vid with rafe) and everyone’s in the comments being like “omg yas this is so hot!!!” “omg this is so much better than her and rafe!!” BALJEKS IDK

the first time someone’s talked negatively about him and it’s actually effected him 😅 he doesn’t like this ego being bruised

It was rare that Rafe checked social media, he just didn’t care about what people thought. He was pornstar and was used to being judged for his career choice and especially for the brutal way he fucked his costars. It was the Twitter notification he got though, with his name and your name tagged along with someone else’s who he didn’t know that caught his attention.

He opened the video, his blue eyes darkening as soon as he saw what it was. It was some nobody with a dick half the size of his, trying to make you cum. He could tell by the moans you were giving that it was all an act, and it ignited something in him he didn’t like. Watching another man fuck you, even if it was your job wasn’t something he particularly was a fan of. He had always loved pussy and money, and never once thought of ever quitting his rather successful porn career for anyone, until you started occupying his mind all day every day. He just couldn’t bring himself to end it yet, his addiction to sex and money way too deep.

As he went to exit out the app, a comment caught his eye. “Wow. She’s a pro at taking dick.” He scoffed as he read it out loud. What dick were you takin? That clown was the size of a pinky compared to him. It was the next one down that had his head raging in a way he had never experienced. ‘Her and @therafecameron video was weak compared to this. 🤣’ He seethed, these stupid idiots comments getting to him and bruising his extremely high ego. His knee bounced rapidly, thumb at the edge of his mouth as his mind raced wildly.

It was the phone, turned into landscape mode as Rafe’s long arm aimed it down to let it capture you taking dick. His free hand was wrapped in your hair, yanking your head back as he drilled into you at a brutal speed. The makeup you had on was smeared, tears streaming down your sparkly cheeks as he had some point to prove. He didn’t exactly say what, but it was a chance to get fucked by the man you were becoming obsessed with.

“Who’s fucking dick are you takin?” Rafe asked, his voice dripping venom as he yanked your head to make you look at him. His blue eyes, peered down at you in a predatory manner as he forced you to give him an answer.

The answer you gave was incoherent, your words coming out in babbles as an insane amount of pleasure was taking over your body. Your eyes rolled back, his huge dick tearing you apart as he wrapped his fist around your hair even harder. The phone that was recording the raw homemade scene was now shoved in your face, his hand on your head forcing you to look at the lens.

You were still so pretty, completely cock drunk off his monstrous ways as you were being his good personal whore. He leaned down, mustache brushing over your ear as he looked at the camera. It was quite a sexy sight to see his wild hair and striking blue iris’s making eye contact with the phone. “Tell them who’s dick your fuckin takin.” He spoke lowly, eyes watching your face through the screen. “Don’t make me repeat myself, I swear you’ll fucking regret it.” He gritted out, toned hips slapping against yours.

You cried out, his hand removing itself from your head to force your chin to look at the camera. You had no choice but to let out a loud whine, screaming the man’s name that you just wanted as yours. “Rafe Cameron! I’m t-takin Rafe Cameron’s dick!” Your voice cracking as you clamped down onto his cock.

As soon as heard that, a smirk came to his face and his nuts tightened. He tilted your chin towards him, sloppily kissing you with his tongue as the camera caught something Rafe never did with anyone. If the kissing wasn’t enough to make people a little shocked, it was that he posted it to his Twitter account, caption reading ‘The only dick that can get her screaming 😱 remember the fucking name bitches.’